ANDERSEN AIR BASE, Guam -- There's something smelly going on
at the 36th Maintenance Squadron munitions flight storage area. It has
something to do with the large black wild boar lolling in a grand pool
of slop near the squadron building.

The bomb loaders call him Shakey the Pig, and he's a must-see
for distinguished visitors. He's even on the squadron patch. The
pig is the squadron mascot.

But the dirty secret is out: The swine isn't the original. In
fact, he's possibly the fourth or fifth Shakey. And he's not
even kin to the first.

Root around in the files long enough, and you'll discover the
truth. It's a sordid story, curly as the 200-plus pound
porker's corkscrew tail. It's a tale of pignappings,
behind-the-pen dealings and even - gasp! -- barbecues.

People talk. You hear things. Like the first Shakey was just a wild
boar, happily scrounging for grubs in the jungle surrounding the storage
facility. That is, until an unknown airman snagged him for a planned
squadron barbecue some time in the 1980s, said Master Sgt. David
Torelli, one of the squadron flight chiefs.

"One of the guys was a serious coffee drinker," Torelli
said. "He was always shaking and had the nickname. They gave it to
the pig."

But certain folks weren't real keen on the squadron keeping a
pet pig. Someone called the base veterinarian. But he gave the boar a
quick checkup and ruled the porker perfectly fine for consumption -- or
cohabitation. Soon a pen went up, and Shakey settled in for the long
haul.

Then he escaped. Or maybe someone let him out. Whatever the case,
he disappeared.

Now you have a poke, but no pig. Time to get another Shakey. Out
went the bomb loaders with orders to come back with a surrogate mascot.

They did. Again and again. It became a pattern. Some at the
squadron whisper that some Shakeys were the guests of honor at more
barbecues than people might imagine. Torelli said at least one Shakey
was the main course at a local wedding dinner.

Whatever.

The current Shakey has been happy as a pig in--well, you know --
for seven years. He's a big, lazy pig. Content to flop around his
luxury pig condo until he turns hooves up.

"A few times he's gotten out," said Staff Sgt. Wyatt
Crozier, a munitions specialist. "But Shakey always comes back for
food. Beats hunting for it in the jungle, right?"

Shakey's a living legend now. Many a visitor has gone out of
his or her way to pet the pig, including a trough full of generals,
diplomats and government officials.

"He's definitely a star," Torelli said. "When
people come here, one of the first things they ask is:
'Where's Shakey?'"

So the ammo troops keep the pig fat and happy. They aren't too
concerned this Shakey will suffer the fate of his predecessors. But if
the day comes, they'll be ready.

"There are hundreds of 'em out in the jungle,"
Crozier said. "Every Shakey has been a wild boar. We'll lust
go out there and get another one."

COPYRIGHT 2002 U.S. Air Force, Air Force News Agency
No portion of this article can be reproduced without the express written permission from the copyright holder.